


Rest beside this blazing hearth, for it is my soul

by Iaveina



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cold Weather, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Pre-Relationship, WoL Needs New Boots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 05:46:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18585004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iaveina/pseuds/Iaveina
Summary: Coerthas was cold. Freezing, icy, unforgiving - everything she was beginning to dread to the very core and everything she was very much unused to. But, as she trudged through the snow to Camp Dragonhead, warmth wasn’t too far away.





	Rest beside this blazing hearth, for it is my soul

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into the world of FFXIV fanfiction… I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> I do want to try and write a series, but we’ll see how successful I am!
> 
> The title is inspired by a quote by Vincent Van Gogh - “ _One may have a blazing hearth in one’s soul and yet no one ever came to sit by it._ ”

She was coming to the very quick realisation that she hated Coerthas. Not the people, whilst mainly holding to some Ishgardian levels of primness they were perfectly tolerable, and even the enemies in the region were acceptable and yielded enough valuable loot upon defeat to keep her comfortably rolling in the Gil.

No, Artsa Levai decided late one evening as she gingerly trekked through the snow to Camp Dragonhead, boots soggy, dark hair coming free of her once-immaculate bun and the tip of her nose threatening to fall off, that if she had to go out into the wilds of Coerthas one more time she was going to murder someone.

And then move to Limsa Lominsa, preferably to Costa del Sol. Permanently. Primals be damned.

Coerthas was _cold_. Freezing, icy, unforgiving - everything she was beginning to dread to the very core and everything she was very much unused to. Her gloves were too thin, her fingers felt numb as they gripped the length of her staff and she wouldn’t be surprised if they had merely frozen to the metal, and as the snowflakes that fell from the brilliant white sky started to fall faster she couldn’t help but cheer as the dark, imposing outline of the camp emerged from the fog.

“Good morning,” a guard greeted her as she approached the gate. Not trusting herself to speak, lest the light chattering of her teeth give her away, she nodded in response and made a beeline for the main building as fast as her legs would carry her.

The moment she entered she was hit by the glorious warmth of a fire burning merrily in the hearth and she slammed the door closed behind her before almost sprinting to the fireside.

“If you get _too_ close I fear you’ll set your clothing alight.”

In her haste to reach the source of the warmth she had completely missed Haurchefant; the knight sat at his usual desk, quill in hand and an amused smirk on his lips.

“I’m c-c-cold,” she replied blandly, prying her staff from the fingers of her left hand and dumping it onto the floor, not caring for the clatter it made. She stuck her hands under her armpits. “S-stupid s-s-snow.”

Haurchefant tsked and stood. “No wonder you’re cold my friend, you’re hardly dressed in appropriate clothing. Not even a hat upon that lovely head.” She scowled and shuffled closer to the hearth. Haurchefant chuckled. “May I get you a hot drink?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathed, desperate. Haurchefant outright grinned. She tried to compose herself. “A h-hot drink sounds absolutely a-amazing r-right n-n-now.”

“Then a hot drink you shall have,” Haurchefant bowed and disappeared through a nondescript side door. Artsa rolled her eyes, pulled a chair closer to the fire and struggled to pull the cold, wet boots from her feet. After a brief struggle she managed to free herself of them, along with her equally cold and wet socks, and stuck her toes as close as she could to the fire without burning them.

“I am glad to see that you feel at home here,” Haurchefant soon reappeared with a mug of something steaming in one hand and, to Artsa’s delight, a blanket in the other.

“I’ll p-pick them up in a bit,” Artsa nodded to where her boots lay abandoned by her staff. The light leather was severely water stained and she winced, knowing they were probably ruined beyond repair. Oh well, another piece of clothing sacrificed to a noble cause. “When I f-feel less like a giant i-ice b-block.”

“And that is where I come in! What would you like first, the blanket or the drink?”

She narrowed her eyes at them both before deciding. “B-blanket.”

She felt slightly bad at the way she violently pulled it from Haurchefant’s grip, but the feeling soon vanished as she wrapped the thick, warm material around her. She accepted the offered mug with a happy sigh, holding it with both hands she breathed in the sweet scent of the liquid within.

“Cocoa?”

“Of course,” Haurchefant nodded, scooping down to pick up the staff and boots which he then deposited against the wall. With her face almost entirely in the mug Artsa could almost feel her nose again. Almost. “Nothing but the best for our guests. I’d be a poor host if I allowed you to freeze.”

“I freeze the moment I set foot outside,” Artsa huffed grumpily, sipping the cocoa with the mug held in one hand and using the other to pull the blanket up over her shoulders.

“And yet, you brave the elements regardless.”

Frowning over her mug, Artsa sighed. “I had some business in Whitebrim and lost track of time. The next thing I know there was a blizzard…”

“Ah yes, as is common here.”

“Well, I didn’t know that,” she muttered into her mug, suppressing a shiver. “And now I do.”

“As much as I wish it, I have not yet mastered the art of changing the weather. However, I can offer a warm hearth and warm drinks,” he clapped his hands together. “And anything else, if you require it?”

She shook her head, quite content in her blanket huddle. Haurchefant returned to his desk, sat down and picked up the quill with a flourish. She sipped the cocoa before speaking.

“I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

“Alas, the work that comes with running a camp of this size is never done,” Haurchefant sighed dramatically as he took a piece of paper from the pile at the corner of his desk. From where she sat Artsa could see the shadows under his eyes and the tired look on his face. “Mostly reports, but certainly nothing interesting.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

“Hmm,” Haurchefant agreed without enthusiasm. He looked at her. “It is not the most exciting job, but it is necessary.”

He returned to his work and the two fell into an amicable silence, Haurchefant’s quill scratching the paper as he wrote, silvery hair falling to frame his face as he earnestly read the words before him. Artsa finished her drink and set the mug on the floor.

“Do you mind if I stay here for a while?” She asked, pulling her legs up onto the chair and underneath the blanket. Haurchefant didn’t look up but she could see the light smile on his lips.

“Of course.”

She hummed slightly and must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew she was entirely warm, the room was absent of Haurchefant’s quill scratches and she felt like something had died in her mouth.

She managed to pry her face from a pool of drool on the blanket and jumped as Haurchefant spoke, his voice unexpectedly close.

“My apologies, it was not my intention to startle you,” he said softly, standing beside her. She blinked up at him blearily and struggled to hold back a yawn. “I didn’t think you would want to continue sleeping here when the men came to train…”

She was honestly surprised she didn’t manage to break her neck with the speed in which she sat up and turned towards the doorway where a small group of muscular, shirtless men stood; pointedly trying to hold back their curiosity as they looked between their Lord and the strange adventurer they barely knew.

She was also honestly surprised she didn’t manage to break her neck as she stumbled to her feet, the blanket falling from her front to tangle between her legs and the stark feeling of icy stone seeping through her socks sending shockwaves through her skin. She gracelessly staggered towards where her staff and boots sat, side-eyeing Haurchefant.

“Yes yes, we’ll discuss this more later,” she waved a hand at him, as if they had been mid-conversation about something more important before being interrupted, and finally managed to shake off the blanket snaked around her ankles. She picked it up and slid her feet into ruined boots before grabbing her staff. “Bye!”

On anybody else the smirk she received in response might have been mocking, but on Haurchefant it was fondly amused. Artsa spun on her heel and strode out of the front door with her head held high.

She made a valiant attempt at maintaining her dignity until the door closed behind her. The brisk morning air chilled her burning cheeks and as she pulled at the magic within her, picturing the bright and sunny stones of Limsa Lominsa’s Aethertye Plaza in her mind’s eyes, she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

She hated the cold, but Haurchefant’s warmth was contagious and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was back.

This time with better boots.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback would be greatly appreciated :)


End file.
